绿里奇迹(英文版)-第9部分

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cap；　and　then　look　through　the　grille　and　tell　Van　Hay　to　roll　on　two；　he　could　watch　the　little　Frenchman　ride　the　lightning　that　he；　Percy　Wetmore；　had　let　out　of　the　bottle。　Let　him　have　his　nasty　little　thrill；　if　that's　what　state…sanctioned　murder　was　to　him。　Let　him　go　on　to　Briar　Ridge；　where　he　would　have　his　own　office　and　a　fan　to　cool　it。　And　if　his　uncle　by　marriage　was　voted　out　of　office　in　the　next　election　and　he　had　to　find　out　what　work　was　like　in　the　tough　old　sunbaked　world　where　not　all　the　bad　guys　were　locked　behind　bars　and　sometimes　you　got　your　own　head　whipped；　so　much　the　better。　
〃All　right；〃　I　said；　standing　up。　〃I'll　put　him　out　front　for　Delacroix。　And　in　the　meantime；　I'll　keep　the　peace。〃　
〃Good；〃　he　said；　and　stood　up　himself。　〃By　the　way；　how's　that　problem　of　yours？〃　He　pointed　delicately　in　the　direction　of　my　groin。　
〃Seems　a　little　better。〃　
'Well；　that's　fine。〃　He　saw　me　to　the　door。　〃What　about　Coffey；　by　the　way？　Is　he　going　to　be　a　problem？〃　
〃I　don't　think　so；〃　I　said。　〃So　far　he's　been　as　quiet　as　a　dead　rooster。　He's　strange　…　strange　eyes　…　but　quiet。　We'll　keep　tabs　on　him；　though。　Don't　worry　about　that！〃　
〃You　know　what　he　did；　of　course。〃　
〃Sure。〃　
He　was　seeing　me　through　to　the　outer　office　by　then；　where　old　Miss　Hannah　sat　bashing　away　at　her　Underwood　as　she　had　ever　since　the　last　ice　age　had　ended；　it　seemed。　I　was　happy　to　go。　All　in　all；　I　felt　as　if　I'd　gotten　off　easy。　And　it　was　nice　to　know　there　was　a　chance　of　surviving　Percy；　after　all。　
〃You　send　Melinda　a　whole　basket　of　my　love；〃　I　said。　〃And　don't　go　buying　you　an　extra　crate　of　trouble；　either。　It'll　probably　turn　out　to　be　nothing　but　migraine；　after　all。〃　
〃You　bet；〃　he　said；　and　below　his　sick　eyes；　his　lips　smiled。　The　bination　was　damned　near　ghoulish。　
As　for　me；　I　went　back　to　E　Block　to　start　another　day。　There　was　paperwork　to　be　read　and　written；　there　were　floors　to　be　mopped；　there　were　meals　to　be　served；　a　duty　roster　to　be　made　out　for　the　following　week；　there　were　a　hundred　details　to　be　seen　to。　But　mostly　there　was　waiting　…　in　prison　there's　always　plenty　of　that；　so　much　it　never　gets　done。　Waiting　for　Eduard　Delacroix　to　walk　the　Green　Mile；　waiting　for　William　Wharton　to　arrive　with　his　curled　lip　and　Billy　the　Kid　tattoo；　and；　most　of　all；　waiting　for　Percy　Wetmore　to　be　gone　out　of　my　life。　
7。　
Delacroix's　mouse　was　one　of　God's　mysteries。　I　never　saw　one　in　E　Block　before　that　summer；　and　never　saw　one　after　that　fall；　when　Delacroix　passed　from　our　pany　on　a　hot　and　thundery　night　in　October　…　passed　from　it　in　a　manner　so　unspeakable　I　can　barely　bring　myself　to　recall　it。　Delacroix　claimed　that　he　trained　that　mouse；　which　started　its　life　among　us　as　Steamboat　Willy；　but　I　really　think　it　was　the　other　way　around。　Dean　Stanton　felt　the　same　way；　and　so　did　Brutal。　Both　of　them　were　there　the　night　the　mouse　put　in　its　first　appearance；　and　as　Brutal　said；　〃The　thing　'us　half…tame　already；　and　twice　as　smart　as　that　Cajun　what　thought　he　owned　it。〃　
Dean　and　I　were　in　my　office；　going　over　the　record…box　for　the　last　year；　getting　ready　to　write　follow…up　letters　to　witnesses　of　five　executions；　and　to　write　follow…ups　to　follow…ups　in　another　six　stretching　all　the　way　back　to　'29。　Basically；　we　wanted　to　know　just　one　thing：　were　they　pleased　with　the　service？　I　knoportant　consideration。　As　taxpayers　they　were　our　customers；　but　very　special　ones。　A　man　or　a　woman　who　will　turn　out　at　midnight　to　watch　a　man　die　has　got　a　special；　pressing　reason　to　be　there；　a　special　need；　and　if　execution　is　a　proper　punishment；　then　that　need　ought　to　be　satisfied。　They've　had　a　nightmare。　The　purpose　of　the　execution　is　to　show　them　that　the　nightmare　is　over。　Maybe　it　even　works　that　way。　Sometimes。　
〃Hey！〃　Brutal　called　from　outside　the　door；　where　he　was　manning　the　desk　at　the　head　of　the　hall。　〃Hey；　you　two！　Get　out　here！〃　
Dean　and　I　gazed　at　each　other　with　identical　expressions　of　alarm；　thinking　that　something　had　happened　to　either　the　Indian　from　Oklahoma　（his　name　was　Arlen　Bitterbuck；　but　we　called　him　The　Chief　。。。　or；　in　Harry　Terwilliger's　case；　Chief　Coat　Cheese；　because　that　was　what　Harry　claimed　Bitterbuck　smelled　like）；　or　the　fellow　we　called　The　President。　But　then　Brutal　started　to　laugh；　and　we　hurried　to　see　what　was　happening。　Laughing　in　E　Block　sounded　almost　as　wrong　as　laughing　in　church。　
Old　Toot…Toot；　the　trusty　who　ran　the　food…wagon　in　those　days；　had　been　by　with　his　holy…rolling　cartful　of　goodies；　and　Brutal　had　stocked　up　for　a　long　night　…　three　sandwiches；　two　pops；　and　a　couple　of　moon　pies。　Also　a　side　of　potato　salad　Toot　had　undoubtedly　filched　from　the　prison　kitchen；　which　was　supposed　to　be　off…limits　to　him。　Brutal　had　the　logbook　open　in　front　of　him；　and　for　a　wonder　he　hadn't　spilled　anything　on　it　yet。　Of　course；　he　was　just　getting　started。　
'What？〃　Dean　asked。　〃What　is　it？〃　
〃State　legislature　must　have　opened　the　pursestrings　enough　to　hire　another　screw　this　year　after　all；〃　Brutal　said；　still　laughing。　〃Lookie　yonder。〃　
He　pointed　and　we　saw　the　mouse。　I　started　to　laugh；　too；　and　Dean　joined　in。　You　really　couldn't　help　it；　because　a　guard　doing　quarter…hour　check　rounds　was　just　like　that　mouse　looked　like：　a　tiny；　furry　guard　making　sure　no　one　was　trying　to　escape　or　mit　suicide。　It　would　trot　a　little　way　toward　us　along　the　Green　Mile；　then　turn　its　head　from　side　to　side；　as　if　checking　the　cells。　Then　it　would　make　another　forward　spurt。　The　fact　that　we　could　hear　both　of　our　current　inmates　snoring　away　in　spite　of　the　yelling　and　the　laughter　somehow　made　it　even　funnier。　
It　was　a　perfectly　ordinary　brown　mouse；　except　for　the　way　it　seemed　to　be　checking　into　the　cells。　It　even　went　into　one　or　two　of　them；　skipping　nimbly　in　between　the　lower　bars　in　a　way　I　imagine　many　of　our　inmates；　past　and　present；　would　envy。　Except　it　was　out　that　the　cons　would　always　be　wanting　to　skip；　of　course。　
The　mouse　didn't　go　into　either　of　the　occupied　cells；　only　the　empties。　And　finally　it　had　worked　its　way　almost　up　to　where　we　were。　I　kept　expecting　it　to　turn　back；　but　it　didn't。　It　showed　no　fear　of　us　at　all。　
〃It　ain't　normal　for　a　mouse　to　e　up　on　people　that　way；〃　Dean　said；　a　little　nervously。　〃Maybe　it's　rabid。〃　
〃Oh；　my　Christ；〃　Brutal　said　through　a　mouthful　of　corned…beef　sandwich。　〃The　big　mouse　expert。　The　Mouse　Man。　You　see　it　foamin　at　the　mouth；　Mouse　Man？〃　
〃I　can't　see　its　mouth　at　all；〃　Dean　said；　and　that　made　us　all　laugh　again。　I　couldn't　see　its　mouth；　either；　but　I　could　see　the　dark　little　drops　that　were　its　eyes；　and　they　didn't　look　crazy　or　rabid　to　me。　They　looked　interested　and　intelligent。　I've　put　men　to　death　…　men　with　supposedly　immortal　souls　…　that　looked　dumber　than　that　mouse。　
It　scurried　up　the　Green　Mile　to　a　spot　that　was　less　than　three　feet　from　the　duty　desk　。。。　which　wasn't　something　fancy；　like　you　might　be　imagining；　but　only　the　sort　of　desk　the　teachers　used　to　sit　behind　up　at　the　district　high　school。　And　there　it　did　stop；　curling　its　tail　around　its　paws　as　prim　as　an　old　lady　settling　her　skirts。　
I　stopped　laughing　all　at　once；　suddenly　feeling　cold　through　my　flesh　all　the　way　to　the　bones。　I　want　to　say　I　don't　know　why　I　felt　that　way　…　no　one　likes　to　e　out　with　something　that's　going　to　make　them　look　or　sound　ridiculous　…　but　of　course　I　do；　and　if　I　can　tell　the　truth　about　the　rest；　I　guess　I　can　tell　the　truth　about　this。　For　a　moment　I　imagined　myself　to　be　that　mouse；　not　a　guard　at　all　but　just　another　convicted　criminal　there　on　the　Green　Mile；　convicted　and　condemned　but　still　managing　to　look　bravely　up　at　a　desk　that　must　have　seemed　miles　high　to　it　（as　the　judgment　seat　of　God　will　no　doubt　someday　seem　to　us）；　and　at　the　heavy…voiced；　blue…coated　giants　who　sat　behind　it。　Giants　that　shot　its　kind　with　BB　guns；　or　swatted　them　with　brooms；　or　set　traps　on　them；　traps　that　broke　their　backs　while　they　crept　cautiously　over　the　word　VICTOR　to　nibble　at　the　cheese　on　the　little　copper　plate。　
There　was　no　broom　by　the　duty　desk；　but　there　was　a　rolling　mop…bucket　with　the　mop　still　in　the　wringer；　I'd　taken　my　turn　at　swabbing　the　green　lino　and　all　six　of　the　cells　shortly　before　sitting　down　to　the　record…box　with　Dean。　I　saw　that　Dean　meant　to　grab　the　mop…　and　take　a　swing　with　it。　I　touched　his　wrist　just　as　his　fingers　touched　the　slender　wooden　handle。　〃Leave　it　be；〃　I　said。　
He　shrugged　and　drew　his　hand　back。　I　had　a　feeling　he　didn't　want　to　swat　it　any　more　than　I　did。　
Brutal　tore　a　corner　off　his　corned…beef　sandwich　and　held　it　out　over　the　front　of　the　desk；　tweezed　delicately　between　two　fingers。　The　mouse　seemed　to　look　up　with　an　even　livelier　interest；　as　if　it　knew　exactly　what　it　was。　Probably　did；　I　could　see　its　whiskers　twitch　as　its　nose　wriggled。　
〃Aw；　Brutal；　no！〃　Dean　exclaimed；　then　looked　at　me。　〃Don't　let　him　do　that；　Paul！　If　he's　gonna　feed　the　damn　thing；　we　might　as　well　put　out　the　wele　mat　for　anything　on　four　legs。…〃　
〃I　just　want　to　see　what　he'll　do；〃　Brutal　said。　〃In　the　interests　of　science；　like。〃　He　looked　at　me　…　I　was　the　boss；　even　in　such　minor　detours　from　routine　as　this。　I　thought　about　it　and　shrugged　like　it　didn't　matter　much；　one　way　or　another。　The　truth　was；　I　kind　of　wanted　to　see　what　he'd　do；　too。　
Well；　he　ate　it　…　of　course。　There　was　a　Depression　on；　after　all。　But　the　way　he　ate　it　fascinated　us　all。　He　approached　the　fragment　of　sandwich；　sniffed　his　way　around　it；　and　then　he　sat　up　in　front　of　it　like　a　dog　doing　a　trick；　grabbed　it；　and　pulled　the　bread　apart　to　get　at　the　meat。　He　did　it　as　deliberately　and　knowingly　as　a　man　tucking　into　a　good　roast…beef　dinner　in　his　favorite　restaurant。　I　never　saw　an　animal　eat　like　that；　not　even　a　well…trained　house　dog。　And　all　the　while　he　was　eating；　his　eyes　never　left　us。　
〃Either　one　smart　mouse　or　hungry　as　hell；〃　a　new　voice　said。　It　was　Bitterbuck。　He　had　awakened　and　now　stood　at　the　bars　of　his　cell；　naked　except　for　a　pair　of　saggy…seated　boxer　shorts。　A　home…rolled　cigarette　poked　out　from　between　the　second　and　third　knuckles　of　his　right　hand；　and　his　iron…gray　hair　lay　over